Best 2271 quotes in «missing quotes» category

The missing missing were people who dropped off the face of the earth and kept on going, with no one in their lives who noticed, or no one in their lives who cared. When they were found dead, with no means of identification, it was almost as though they’d been born that way.

There are some places you can't visit anymore, poetry and writings take you there.

There are always things to miss," said Maggie. "No matter where you are.

There has never been a poet able to heal with words, nor accurately express with phrases, the pain of missing a lost loved one.

There is no such a thing as missing the train of your life! Life is very rich and very generous; it always offers you new opportunities! Already-missed will soon be substituted by the not-missed-yet!

There is a hole in the heart called "absence". You live in it my dear.

There is nothing I can do that won’t bring me back to you.

There is nothing missing.

there's a blessing ; even when you lose That ; There's always stay inside Your Heart, Memories That You'll never Been Forgotten Until the Rest Of Your Life ; mine?; There's inside My Heaven "Miquel Andre" .

The wind took me away from you, Draped with fear, waking nightmare, I lost all sense of who I could become, Your exuberant hold slipped away, Irresolute, impulsive, irreconcilable.

These days of internment are long. I do miss the falling blossoms, the manifold seasons of life, the thousand glances from the grand seductress – the world. But now all is uncertain.

These were the things we would never notice were missing.

The stars are brilliant at this time of night and I wander these streets like a ritual I don’t dare to break for darling, the times are quite glorious. I left him by the water’s edge, still waving long after the ship was gone and if someone would have screamed my name I wouldn’t have heard for I’ve said goodbye so many times in my short life that farewells are a muscular task and I’ve taught them well. There’s a place by the side of the railway near the lake where I grew up and I used to go there to burry things and start anew. I used to go there to say goodbye. I was young and did not know many people but I had hidden things inside that I never dared to show and in silence I tried to kill them, one way or the other, leaving sin on my body scrubbing tears off with salt and I built my rituals in farewells. Endings I still cling to. So I go to the ocean to say goodbye. He left that morning, the last words still echoing in my head and though he said he’d come back one day I know a broken promise from a right one for I have used them myself and there is no coming back. Minds like ours are can’t be tamed and the price for freedom is the price we pay. I turned away from the ocean as not to fall for its plea for it used to seduce and consume me and there was this one night a few years back and I was not yet accustomed to farewells and just like now I stood waving long after the ship was gone. But I was younger then and easily fooled and the ocean was deep and dark and blue and I took my shoes off to let the water freeze my bones. I waded until I could no longer walk and it was too cold to swim but still I kept on walking at the bottom of the sea for I could not tell the difference between the ocean and the lack of someone I loved and I had not yet learned how the task of moving on is as necessary as survival. Then days passed by and I spent them with my work and now I’m writing letters I will never dare to send. But there is this one day every year or so when the burden gets too heavy and I collect my belongings I no longer need and make my way to the ocean to burn and drown and start anew and it is quite wonderful, setting fire to my chains and flames on written words and I stand there, starring deep into the heat until they’re all gone. Nothing left to hold me back. You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains wrapped around my veins, and if you see a fire from the shore tonight it’s my chains going up in flames. The time of moon i quite glorious. We could have been so glorious.

The world, with all its impossible variegation and the basic miracle of its existence, draws most mourners out of their grief and back into itself. The homosexual forsythia blooms; the young Irish dancers in Killarney dance, their arms as rigid as shovel handles; secret deals are done involving weapons or office space or crude oil or used cars or drugs; new lovers, believing they will never really have to get up, lie down together; the Large Hadron Collider smashes the Higgs boson into view; snow drapes its white stoles on the bare limbs of winter; the crack of the bat swung by a hefty Dominican pulls a crowd to its feet in Boston; bricks for the new hospital in Phnom Penh are laid in true courses; the single-engine Cessna lands safely in an Ohio alfalfa field during a storm. How can you resist? The true loss in only to the dying, and even the won't feel it when the dying's done.

Un seul être vous manque, et tout est dépeuplé. (Miss one person and the world seems empty.)

They way I walk now you’d have a hard time recognising me, on these streets where I once imagined walking with you. Hand in hand, like we always did, and it never mattered where we were going because it was all just fine. I was always fine. But they rest restlessly in my pockets now, in a new town, on these new streets, and it’s heavy to stay standing for my body is half the size when you’re gone and these buildings are tall and old and beautiful and I wonder what secrets they hold. How to stand so proud after so many years because I’m still young but I feel worn and I get through the days on too much caffeine and mood altering chemicals to stay awake long enough to make the poetry come alive. I fall asleep on the floor with the music still playing when my neighbour leaves for the office and I’m jealous. I wonder what it’s like to go outside and know where to go, know where you want to end up and just simply go there. I’ve been making lists of things I want to do, where to go and who to be, now that you’re gone, and it’s nice and all, it’s just … I’d rather write it with you, and go there with you. Be things with you. There were days when I still put on make up in case you’d come back, but I wear the same clothes and shower in the rain, eat when I can and sleep when I can, which is rare and not often, so if you’d see me now on these streets where I once imagined walking with you you’d have a hard time recognising me. It takes a lot to run away.

This fever of longing is not love, he thought, it is the opposite of love. It is the separation from love that burns like the fires of hell.

This negativity of my mind Is to blame For missing loving And being loved

Those who fixate on what could have been are bound to miss what already is.

Tu vahan, aur mein yahan, Beet Gaya ye waqt , na Jane kaise Kahan, Milo ki hai ye dooriyan, baato mein hai mazbooriyan, Sapno k peeche ki ye daud, Bante toot-te Rishtey har ek mode, Zindagi se Tej bhaagte, Kambhakt waqt ki ye pair, Na Jane kab ye rukega, kismat ka hamse ye bair, Aa ab Laut chale hum, jahan se hum tum they aaye, Chod ye naye anjaane rishtey, Chal dohrayen Apne bachpan k kissey, Tu vahan, aur mein yahan, Beet Gaya ye waqt , na Jane kaise Kahan

What if it's as simple as one moment? One tiny thing, like that kiss on the rocks? What if I'd kissed him a little longer? Would he be alive right now? Or what if I'd stayed with him Friday night, what if I'd been with him… wherever he was?

We play phone tag, back and forth, the kind of tag where it's clear we're avoiding each other, where no one wants to be touched, tagged, you're it

What a wonderful sadness to miss the one you have loved forever, it seems, and know that she is waiting at home.

We stood, holding each other's faces, memorising every last detail. I was deperate with my own need to capture this last, lingering moment, desperate to forget the horrible sink at the pit of my stomach telling me all this would be lost forever once they pulled the chip out. Please don't let me forget.

What I want to know is how you go on when you look around and don’t see anywhere you want to go without the only person you can’t have.

Who misses what they have never, ever even imagined?

What's writ is what's read, yet the meaning is gone, since context is what gives each quote its own home.

When I could look beyond the external beauty.....I found immense ental love in the world

When someone starts topic 'True love' Automatically My soul missing you..!!

When two broken hearts meet, they find their missing part in each other.

When you do something, you miss something else! If you don’t want to miss anything, you have to do everything!

Where would tourism be without a little luxury and a taste of night life? There were several cities on Deanna, all moderate in size, but the largest was the capital, Atro City. For the connoisseur of fast-foods, Albrechts’ famous hotdogs and coldcats were sold fresh from his stall (Albrecht’s Takeaways) on Lupini Square. For the sake of his own mental health he had temporarily removed Hot Stuff Blend from the menu. The city was home to Atro City University, which taught everything from algebra and make-up application to advanced stamp collecting; and it was also home to the planet-famous bounty hunter – Beck the Badfeller. Beck was a legend in his own lifetime. If Deanna had any folklore, then Beck the Badfeller was one of its main features. He was the local version of Robin Hood, the Davy Crockett of Deanna. The Local rumor mill had it he was so good he could find the missing day in a leap year. Once, so the story goes, he even found a missing sock.

Who did she expect to pick her up? A name had been on her lips. Someone she missed terribly, so much so that the physical longing stabbed at her chest and made her grab it, but there was no knife to pull out. It was invisible but real, and the blade was grinding deeper into her as she realised that she didn’t know who she was missing. There was no knight in shining armour to collect her, or if there was, she didn’t know who he was.

Why do I have to miss her while she's alive?

When twilight sleeps holding the night In your arms you embrace me tight Runaway hours clenched by kisses More of your love my heart misses

Why do bad things happen to good people? Within every bad thing I see good, and, likewise, within every good thing I see bad, however impossible it is to understand it or see it at the time.

Words never mean a thing if you don't know the lack of them, or sounds, or laughter, and it's the small moments of silence I value the most.

You can never love people as much as you miss them.

You can ache for where you come from, and it's homesickness. A relationship, and it's heartbreak. But is there a word for missing your friends like that?

Yes, I know this might not work out. We may be embittered and scarred. ‘The missing’ would be an ache for life. Yet, I would not trade a minute of this peace felt in being with you now, for any happiness else.

You are looking at the world from your window, that’s good, but there is something missing here, something very big: You must also look at your window from the world to see yourself!

You can feel the distance. It carries a weight that's heavier than anything.

You cannot imagine how much I miss you... The house does not feel the same. I keep feeling that you are here or thinking that I see you. I even think that I can hear you some afternoons...I go out to see... I look for you, but I can't find you. My life is not the same without you.

You cannot move forward if you are always thinking backwards

You don't have to be invisible to disappear.

You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains tight around my chest, and if you see a fire from the shore tonight it’s my chains going up in flames.

You know, I tried not to think of this place. I tried to let it go. To leave it behind. But it always came back to me, in my dreams. I'd dream about these details, these objects and people and places I'd left behind, and I'd wake up crying.

You had me at Hello You had me at hello, but now it’s time to say goodbye. Whilst my lungs draw breath and my heart beats a steady beat, beside me, for you there will always be a seat. You my special friend brought laughter and smiles that knew no end. Although physically you may be gone, my memories of you will live on and on. I know within my soul once again that we shall meet and when we do, that seat is still reserved especially for you. You had me at hello, for now my friend I say goodbye.

You know that I love you quite a lot -- But sometimes... not. Sometimes not. I don't know why. I guess I Just hate you sometimes, Because sometimes I even hate myself, And she loves you.

You rarely know, in the moment, when it's the last time you'll do something. Most of the time, the whole thing just sneaks away in the night, never to be seen or heard from again, not even sending back so much as a postcard to say hello.